


Then and Now

by whysterias



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AKA the character study no one asked for, AKA watch me flounder whilst I try to create angst for sweet cinnamon roll Ignatz, Byleth is also just there like in the game oops, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suicidal Thoughts, Third Person Multiple POV, sorry for the additional tags for those who have already read this!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-11 12:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whysterias/pseuds/whysterias
Summary: Five years and a war can change someone: when nostalgia’s the only thing keeping you going. Or the only thing holding you back.





	1. All it took was five years and a war

**Author's Note:**

> Scene Break Symbol Guide
> 
> ... - Ignatz POV  
''' - Marianne POV  
*** - General POV (applied to group settings)  
If any of the above symbols are wrapped with brackets (such as [...] or ['''] or [***]), it signifies a flashback

…

Five years.

They had promised to meet up five years after they graduated, but no one expected a war would break the precarious peace over Fódlan. When Garreg Mach fell under attack, Ignatz remembered the screaming and the chaos as everything crumbled around him. The professor had gone off with Archbishop Rhea while the students were tasked to help the civilians evacuate, and the guiding beacon that had grounded him during the school year wasn’t there to keep his hold on his sanity.

He remembered snippets: Claude effortlessly guiding evacuees while shooting down any fliers that had gotten too close, Hilda rescuing a young boy from a nearly fatal attack, Lorenz and Leonie galloping through the crowds with spears in hand and uncharacteristically ferocious expressions on their faces, Lysithea healing a group of soldiers before turning around an launching an explosive spell.

But then he met Marianne’s gaze, her tired, doe-eyes wide and screaming in fear, as she flew by on a Pegasus with as many animals she could wrap her arms around. Time slowed as he examined her visage, dyed golden by the setting sun, as her hair flit around her head and tears gleamed in the light, and his heart sank to see something so beautifully tragic.

The moment was short-lived: someone had bumped into him, and he tumbled to the ground. His glasses slipped off, landing on the cobblestone pathways nearby. He reached for them with his blurry vision, finger grazing the sleek metal when—

_CRACK. _

A group of soldiers had stampeded over his lenses yet narrowly missed his hand.

His world became a cluster of colored blobs and a cacophony of noises he couldn’t identify. With fear tingling through his fingers and toes, he scrambled for a safe place to hide, struggling to stay silent as the nausea began to settle in. Only when he felt warm arm lift him up, and the familiar timbre of Raphael’s voice boom against the war sounds, did he allow himself to let the tears he had been keeping in flow, silently sobbing as his best friend carried him to safety.

In those five years, he had spent his time training at his family’s house while helping his father and brother efficiently move rations and supplies. On occasion, someone from the Golden Deer house would drop by (usually Claude or Lorenz on official Alliance business), and Ignatz would spend a few minutes catching up with them as if whatever small talk he could squeeze in could help him forget the state of his world. But they would only look at him at the end, eyes downcast when he asked for news about the professor, before leaving.

But those five years were up now.

And he was sprinting through the forest, bow bouncing on his back, as he followed the sound of horseshoes. Lorenz was strides away on his steed, guiding him to the meeting place. And when Ignatz saw Claude soaring through the skies on a wyvern, looking as animated as he did all those years ago, Ignatz knew.

The five year wait was over.

'''

Five years.

They had promised to meet up five years after they graduated, but no one expected a war would break the precarious peace over Fódlan. When Garreg Mach fell under attack, Marianne remembered the birds flying away in hordes, like a group of locusts ravaging the land, before she heard the first attack. The horses and Pegusi neighed louder, growing restless in the stables, while the dogs and cats rushed by her in a frenzy.

Leonie and Lorenz had sprinted towards her, winded, before hopping onto two horses and galloping away. Bernadetta came by shortly after, clearly on edge as she screamed and flinched with every sound, before she too climbed onto a horse and went her way. Sylvain and Ingrid had arrived at the same time and, after shooting each other an understanding look, mounted a horse and Pegasus respectively before leaving just as composed as they came.

Marianne felt a scratch on her leg, and she looked down to see a kitten pawing at her. She picked the poor little thing up, suffering several scratches on her hand, before getting on the closest Pegasus. Determined to save the animals, she briskly flew around the monastery, snatching them up, as the wind got into her eyes.

In the midst of blinking out her tears, she met Ignatz’s gaze, his doe-eyes wide from terror, as he stood there, frozen amidst the movement below. Time slowed as she examined his visage, dyed golden by the setting sun, as his glasses reflected in the light, as his mouth slowly came ajar, and she had briefly wondered what was wrong with him when—

_WHIZ._

An arrow flew past her, narrowly missing her face.

Were she by herself, she wouldn’t have cared much about her well-being. But she felt the weight the animals, their warmth, their life cradled in her arms, and she couldn’t bear to have any harm befall them. Despite her full hands, she grabbed the reins as she forced the Pegasus to fly higher, shooting upwards to hopefully get some cloud cover. She had spent far too long in the skies and only when she couldn’t bear the fatigue any longer did she come back down, greeted by the damaged walls of Garreg Mach. She let the animals go before surveying the area.

Eventually she saw Claude and Hilda talking to each other by the classrooms. And when she saw the grim expressions on their faces, she had learned that the professor had gone missing during the battle.

In those five years, she had spent her time cooped up in her family’s home, living whatever remnants of a lavish, noble life one could live in the midst of war. On occasion, someone from the Golden Deer house would drop by (usually Claude on official Alliance business or Hilda wanting to have some tea together), and Marianne would spend her time with them in silence, eyes fixated on anything but their faces, as she listened to them talk about the state of the world or the lack of any news regarding the professor.

But those five year were up now.

And she was galloping through the forest, with Lysithea holding onto her for dear life, as she followed Raphael who was barreling through the foliage and shrub to the meeting place. And when Marianne saw Claude soaring through the skies on his Wyvern, looking as animated as he did all those years ago, Marianne knew.

The five year wait was over.


	2. All you need is a little bit of hot chocolate and conversation to make the world a better place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scene Break Symbol Guide
> 
> ... - Ignatz POV  
''' - Marianne POV  
*** - General POV (applied to group settings)  
If any of the above symbols are wrapped with brackets (such as [...] or ['''] or [***]), it signifies a flashback
> 
> Tablea - a Filipino term to describe the cocoa and sugar pallets used to make hot chocolate  
Tsokolate - the Filipino version of hot chocolate

***

“Well, Teach,” Claude yawned before stretching his arms behind his head, “I think that’s enough of all this official business.” He smirked at Lysithea, and she groaned. “You know what to do, m’lady.”

“Claude, I’m sure the _tablea _stash is either long expired or long stolen.”

“Who said I’m talking about the one in the kitchen?” His eyes narrowed in on the large pouch hanging from her waist. “Knowing you, I’m sure you’ve got enough _tablea_ in there for one round of Golden Deer _tsokolate_.”

Lysithea scoffed. “The only thing you’ll find in there are vulneraries and—”

“Oh, Lysithea, I didn’t realize they came wrapped in such thick pieces of parchment paper!” Hilda chirped, examining the pouch she had secretly opened while its owner was preoccupied. “They also smell an awful lot like cocoa! Do tell me where you found such lovely medicine.”

“_Hilda!_” Lysithea screamed as her face turned bright red.

The tradition of the Golden Deer _tsokolate_ stemmed from that fateful meeting on the first day of class. Claude, in pursuit of a midnight snack, had stumbled upon Lysithea crouched on the ground, stuffing herself with _tablea _by her dim candlelight.

_Tablea _was hard to find in Fódlan; cocoa beans and sugar cane only grew in the tropical areas of Dagda and Brigid, and widespread trade with those countries was nonexistent. (Brigid’s status as a vassal state allowed the circulation of sugar as a lucrative spice in the Adrestrian Empire, but the color of the ground cocoa powder and sugar tablets disgusted the nobles so much that they refused to even try _tsokolate_. [The fact that it was a popular drink for commoners in Brigid and Dagda also contributed to _tablea’_s scarcity outside of its native region]).

Claude had only had it once as a child during a visit to Brigid: he was in the bustling marketplace when he smelled something sweet. After wandering around, he found himself in front of a stand selling _tsokolate_, and he watched as the merchant mixed the _tablea _with boiling water, eyes in awe as the drink frothed before him.

His first sip was a life-exchanging experience.

Just to relive that treasured childhood memory of his, Claude struck a deal with the younger girl: if she promised to let him have some, he would stay quiet about her sweet tooth. And, after telling her that eating _tablea _straight like that was an insult to the mana that was _tsokolate_, he passed down his sacred knowledge on how to create one of the divine essences of heaven, grabbed a couple (read: a lot) of tablets and went his merry way.

That first month of school was an ordeal for the poor girl. The frequency that Claude was spotted holding this unfamiliar yet divine drink caused far too many people to come to Lysithea asking her if she was willing to share. Claude faithfully kept his end of the deal since he stayed mum about the younger girl’s penchant for sweets, but an outstanding person like him wasn’t going to _lie _about where he got the _tsokolate _from.

(Lysithea would feign confusion when confronted before dismissing herself to hunt down Claude. And when she finally found the slimy bastard, she would drag him out of wherever he was by his ear and berate him for exposing her amongst the students unfortunate enough to be within an earshot of them. As the month passed, the amount of people asking her to share had lessened, but she eventually had had enough.)

Deciding that sharing truly was caring, Lysithea had given into the demands of the people. And so, the first time the Golden Deer students had _tsokolate _was the evening after their first battle with the professor. From there, it had become tradition for them meet up in the mess hall (or anywhere really) once a week and chat with the warm drink in hand.

However, it didn’t stay contained within the Golden Deer for long. When Lysithea’s stock first started running low, Ignatz and Raphael went to Petra and Shamir to see if they could find a way to have some _tablea _shipped to the monastery.

Excited at the chance to have food from her homeland, Petra assured them she would find a way to get them into Fódlan so long as they let her into the _tsokolate _meetings. She had managed to secure a regular shipment of _tablea _to Garreg Mach, and it sat in its reserved corner in the kitchen.

Shamir, on the other hand, scoffed at the young men’s excitement for such a childish drink before dismissing them. A week later, however, Raphael stumbled into a crate, almost filled with _tablea, _in front of his room with a note on it saying: “Payment received.” These crates always appeared in front of Raphael’s room every first Sunday of the month: never full with the same note always taped at the top.

(At some point during that year, Catherine claimed that she had never seen Shamir look so at ease while holding a steaming hot mug of something that mostly certainly was _not _coffee, but no one believed her. Only Ignatz and Raphael knew. They also valued their lives, too. And so, the claim passed, settling into the annals of yet another monastery rumor.)

As more students joined the Golden Deer house or found out about the tradition, it had turned into such a large weekly event that even the Archbishop would come by when she was free. For a couple of hours a week, everyone would forget about the world outside those walls, a world so ingrained in them that it still played into their daily life in this closed-off paradise, and enjoy each other’s company over a cup of hot chocolate that that world wouldn’t have let them enjoy otherwise.

At its core, it truly was a Golden Deer tradition. And for the first time after more than five years, even if this would only last for that instant, it was finally just theirs again. Theirs and theirs alone.

…

While the women (and Lorenz) stayed behind to prepare the _tsokolate _for those who enjoyed it with water, the men (and Leonie) headed off to the nearest village to grab some milk for those who preferred a creamier drink and food supplies for dinner that evening. Flayn, Cyril, and the rest of the defunct faculty were out for the rest of the day to contact those from the Church of Seiros and gather supplies, so those of the Golden Deer house just needed to fend for themselves for one evening.

Which was no issue considering they had Leonie. She could’ve just gone to the forest nearby, catching wild game and fish while foraging, before preparing a meal with the pack of cooking herbs she always had on her.

But getting the milk for the _tsokolate _was the highest priority on this trip. Lysithea wouldn’t have it any other way, and she was practically the head of the Golden Deer house at that moment because she was sharing her sweets. They wouldn’t, couldn’t, dare piss her off and risk not having that beloved drink after so long.

And Claude wanted to have a big feast to celebrate their reunion. Well, as big as one could have considering the overall lack of supplies in Fódlan, but he wanted everyone to ride on this morale high before the brunt of wartime hit.

(Out of everyone, he surmised, he probably needed it the most. He refused to let anyone see the fearless leader of the Leicester Alliance, so full of hot air that it could probably keep him airborne without the aid of his Wyvern, break down at the thought of this war.

Not yet anyway.)

“Leonie, could you _please _go a little slower?” Ignatz asked as politely as he could while screaming to be heard against the wind, the galloping, and the flapping wings of Claude’s Wyvern above.

“And miss having dinner just because everyone in the village happened to be asleep? No way!” She snapped the reins, and her horse quickened its pace.

Ignatz jolted from his perch behind her, and his glasses nearly bounced off. “_Please. _I don’t want to hold onto you any more than I have to!”

“It’s fine! I don’t mind, really!” She looked back to him and smiled. “I’d rather not have to pick you up after you fall off; we can’t waste any time!” With another snap of her reins, Ignatz held onto her for dear life, trying to ignore the fact that he was tightly embracing a woman.

He blushed so furiously that he was worried Leonie would think he had caught a fever.

“Look at him!” Claude called from above, bellowing in laughter when he saw Ignatz’s reddened face. “Leonie broke the poor guy!”

“Huh?” Confused, Raphael looked down at his best friend. “Huh. I’ve never seen him so red before. Do you think he’ll be fine?”

Claude smirked. “He’s more than fine. Have you ever seen him get close to a girl?”

“Hm. Can’t say I have.”

“Ah. He’s still a spring chicken, that one.” Raphael shot Claude a confused look, and Claude couldn’t help but laugh again. “Don’t worry about it, big guy. How’re you holding up right now?”

“I’m a little worried I might squish you, but I’m good! I’ve never been this high up, though.”

“D’ya like it?”

“I love it! Made me a little queasy at first, but it’s really nice once I got used to it.” Raphael nodded. “The wind feels great!”

“I know what you mean, pal.”

At the edge of the horizon, wedged between the green of the trees and the golden hue of the setting sky, Claude noticed a spot of brown. He squinted before yelling, “Leonie! We’re almost at the village, so try not to snap Ignatz in half before we get there!”

“Why would I do that?” she screamed back. “It’s not like we’re training right now”

“Claude, _please, _by the goddess, can you not be yourself right now?!” Ignatz screeched while Claude’s cackle carried through the wind.

And, just like this moment of respite, it too faded into the distance.

'''

“I’m _telling _you; you’re doing it wrong!” Lysithea screamed for what seemed like the umpteenth time.

Lorenz looked at her incredulously with a wooden whisk in one hand and a mug of steaming hot _tsokolate _starting to foam in the other. “As someone who has had his fair share of brewing tea from the East _in this very fashion, _I must insist that this is a perfectly acceptable way to foam this drink!”

“_This is not tea!”_

From her perch, Hilda whistled while resting her chin in her palm. “And that’s our favorite little sweets connoisseur in action! I expect nothing short of perfection with the _tsokolate _today, Lysithea!”

_“Shut up!”_

After snapping at Hilda, Lysithea went back to squabbling with Lorenz by the stove. He looked about ready to pull out his hair, she looked about ready to verbally rip his neck off: five years later, they still couldn’t see eye to eye for the most trivial of things.

“Anyhow, Marianne, how’re you doing?” Hilda turned her attention to the young woman, too preoccupied with her hands to notice the loud noise emanating from the kitchen, sitting in front of her at the dining hall table.

A few seconds had passed, and Marianne looked up, face giving way to shock when she met Hlida’s eyes. “Oh, um, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Could you repeat that?”

Hilda sighed. “Look, I get that you’re worried about the professor, but even they said they wanted to be alone for a bit. They need some time to process everything; imagine being in their shoes and being thrust five years into the future when their last memory was that awful assault on the monastery!”

Marianne only hummed in half-hearted agreement, and Hilda sighed before pouting. “After visiting you for five years, this is all I get from you? I thought we were better friends than this.”

“Oh, I’m, uh, sorry.” Marianne hung her head low, focusing again on her hands.

Realizing that she couldn’t hold a modicum of conversation with Marianne, Hilda hopped up from her seat and joined the duo in the kitchen with a smile. Inserting herself in the argument only heightened it, and an exasperated Lysithea, exhausted Lorenz, and lackadaisical Hilda in the kitchen was the perfect recipe for mayhem.

But Marianne didn’t mind. Rather, she didn’t care. The booming noise faded into the background as she looked out the windows of the dining hall, watching the leaves sway in the wind. She spotted the birds hidden away in the foliage before they flew out of her view.

She liked the silence: in the middle of all the noise and the bustle, she could escape into her little bubble, the eye in the middle of the storm, and breathe. And only then could she face the world head on, watching everything furiously flit past her as she purposely played her role as the outsider looking in.

Lorenz’s high-pitched yelp startled her, and she turned towards the trio in the kitchen to see Lorenz hiding behind Hilda who was attempting to sweet-talk Lysithea into putting down the steaming hot kettle in her hand. Marianne met Lysithea’s eyes just briefly, and the younger woman looked at her in a mix of pity and derision before attempting to get past the pink-haired fortress and rain boiling terror upon the pathetic prince.

(After Lysithea had called Marianne out for her excessive moping. Marianne began to avoid Lysithea as much as she could. The younger girl, despite dealing with demons she refused to disclose, could never understand Marianne’s existence that unwillingly granted misfortune to those around her. Since they would never be on the same page, Marianne decided it was best to avoid unnecessary confrontation.

However, on one of the many walks Marianne took at night to battle her insomnia, she had passed by Lysithea’s room to hear groaning. Had she heard this during the day, Marianne would have rushed by, momentarily feeling guilty for abandoning someone who might need help before the numbness took hold of her again. Eventually someone would help the girl. It just wasn’t going to be her.

Considering how late it was, Marianne’s good conscious overrode her personal feelings towards Lysithea, and she cautiously approached the door. She lightly knocked on the door while calling Lysithea’s name but, when she was answered with pained moans instead of that snappy voice that terrified her, she pushed the door open to reveal the younger girl curled up in a ball on the floor, so unbelievably vulnerable that Marianne stood there in shock until a devastatingly painful cough from Lysithea snapped her out of it.

They didn’t say a word to each other that evening. Marianne silently helped Lysithea change into her night clothes before making a frazzled trip to the dining hall. She returned with arms full of an assortment of items ranging from water jugs to a frying pan, and Lysithea had to stifle a laugh at the older girl’s well-meant clumsiness.

Lysithea spent the evening sitting up in bed, insistent on studying despite the blood she kept coughing up. Whenever she held her hand out, Marianne would wipe it clean before it returned to its place, hovering by the bottom corner of the page like a haunting ghost. Marianne cleaned the soiled towel in Lysithea’s wash basin, watching the crimson lift from the white fabric, curling and fading away into the water before wringing it to dry.

Wipe. Rinse. Dry. Repeat.

Only when dawn arrived did fatigue win over Lysithea’s stubbornness, and the younger girl’s head bobbed over the book in her lap until it just drooped there like a wilting flower. Marianne tucked her in, sticking an unused quill between the open pages before closing the book and placing it by Lysithea’s head.

She left the room bathed in the early-morning sun, taking a deep breath of the air laced with the scent of morning dew when the thoughts assaulted her.

How deeply disturbed was she to wish that she was in Lysithea’s shoes? If Marianne’s burden only affected her, then she could ensure that she was the only one hurt over something she had no control over. No one else would have to suffer; the damage would be contained to just one person: her.

If she could find a way to erase herself, maybe it would relieve everyone of the burden that was her own existence.

These ideas engulfed her, drowning out the whispering voice of the goddess trying to snap her out of it, as she mindlessly ambled around the monastery at the mercy of wherever her feet took her.

And it was Claude’s voice, booming far too loudly at that time in the morning, asking about the disappearance of a frying pan in the kitchen, that stopped her from taking that one step that would plunge her into the fishing pond.)

It was at that time that the doors to the dining hall opened with Raphael carrying heaping sacks filled with food while animatedly talking with the professor. Claude and Leonie were teasing a red-faced Ignatz, and the ruckus in the kitchen had ceased temporarily.

Marianne stood up absent-mindedly. It was time to start cooking.

'''

Their habits during their _tsokolate _meetings hadn’t changed despite the five years that had passed. Claude still sat the heart of it all, spinning stories and tales with that golden voice of his and eyes that sparkled with mischief. Hilda would usually play along with him, hiding her amused smile and laughs behind her daintily curled hand.

Leonie, despite her strait-laced attitude, was always entertained by the antics of the house leader and his comrade-in-arms. Truthfully, even though she only ever admitted this to Jeralt’s kid, it was Lorenz’s theatrics towards Claude’s shenanigans and the temper tantrum that Lysithea always ending up having that drove Leonie to tears. She often sat next to the professor, laughing with them about the riot that was the students of the Golden Deer house.

Raphael always seemed to hang onto each word that Claude said, unable to discern the shred of truth between the many, many, _many _lies. Ignatz, dutifully sitting next to his childhood friend, would always try to call Claude out to no avail. (Leonie found his poor floundering entertaining as well.)

And Marianne always sat at the fringe of it all, cradling the warm mug in her hands like it was a newborn chick. She would observe the rest of the group in silence, staying until she felt the fatigue of spending too much time around others hit her, and she would then quietly dismiss herself and retreat somewhere far removed from the bustle to unwind before silently enjoying her drink that had long gone cold.

That night wasn’t an exception. After she dismissed herself, she scurried over to the church, keeping the rhythm of her footsteps echoing through the ruined walls of Garreg Mach and relishing in this silence before people started to trickle in once again. She brushed the dust and debris off one of the pews closest to the front, staring at the pile of large rubble before looking up to the see the stars blinking through in the holes of the ceiling. She focused her gaze down at the rubble again, noting the jagged edges of the broken pieces when—

“Marianne?”

The low voice had startled her, and she squeaked before turning around to see Ignatz holding a steaming mug in his hands. His cheeks looked a little flushed, and beads of sweat hung from his forehead. He looked as equally startled as her.

“Um…”

“I’m so sorry!” Marianne instinctively apologized.

“Oh no, there’s no need to apologize! It was my fault that I scared you.”

“Did you need something?” she asked, too curtly for their own good.

Ignatz looked panicked. “Well, uh, I thought you might’ve wanted a warm drink since it seemed like yours had gone cold.”

“I’m good.” She paused. “…thank you, though.”

He nodded, but he just stood there. Marianne looked at him in confusion until he opened his mouth. “Could I, um, join you?”

She blinked. “…yes, you may.”

With a swift motion of his arm, he cleaned most of the pew she sat on with his cloak before he sat down. “You know, Lorenz nearly singed my eyebrows when I asked him to heat this up for me. I felt a little silly risking my life for this. And then you said you didn’t want it…” He trailed off into nervous laughter.

Marianne kept her focus on the surface on the _tsokolate _in her mug as if willing it to ripple under her scrutiny. It stayed still, so she slightly tilted her mug to the side, watching her drink undulate in the darkness.

“Um, is there something wrong?” Ignatz asked.

“Not really,” she answered.

She wasn’t lying. Even though everything should’ve felt right in that instant, nothing did. Her uneasiness couldn’t be contained in one measly thing. Ignatz certainly couldn’t understand how she felt. Maybe the professor would, but she couldn’t bear to bother them with something as trivial as her own well-being. Not at that moment, anyway.

And the one person who would understand…

Her grip on the mug tightened.

“Isn’t this where you do something to get my mind off of my brooding?” she asked.

The words came off as playful, but the hollow tone she said them with said otherwise. Her voice exposed the tiredness she was feeling, and she felt herself shrink under Ignatz’s gaze.

But he just smiled before looking up. “I was going to say that you should look up to see the stars but, well, the view’s actually quite pathetic from where we’re standing.” He laughed again. “You know, now that I think about it, we’ve actually been in this exact situation before.”

She looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

Yet another laugh. “I meant you and me sitting here at night in these exact same spots.”

Marianne took a moment to recall such a memory, but she shook her head when nothing popped up.

“No worries! It was five years ago during an extremely eventful year; we can’t be expected to remember every detail of every single day.”

“I remembered the flowers we saw while doing laundry. And the view of the town at sunset,” she offered in consolation with a small smile that he returned.

“Well, as glad as I am to hear that, I _did _ask you to remember the latter, so it honestly feels like I cheated a little bit there.” His smile widened. “I have a bad habit of rambling, don’t I?”

She giggled, slightly amused at Ignatz attempt to cheering her up. Despite everything, he still somehow managed to get her mind off her thoughts. “Just a little bit, yes.”

Before they could continue their conversation, they heard heavy footsteps crescendoing from a distance. They turned around to see a frantic Raphael panting at the entrance of the church.

“Hey, uh, Ignatz, we’ve got a little problem in the dining hall.”

Ignatz shot him a skeptical look. “What do you mean?”

“I think Lysithea’s about to unleash about five years’ worth of anger, and we may need an ice spell just in case stuff catches on fire.”

“…why would her spells catch things on fire?”

“Well, uh, Claude may or may not have spiked Lorenz’s and Lysithea’s drinks today, and I think she’s still a little angry about what happened earlier in the kitchen, so…uh…”

_“Claude!_”

“I’m gonna go head back to see if the professor and Leonie need help calming them down, so I’ll see you in a bit!”

Raphael rushed back out, his footsteps thundering in the church. Ignatz sighed before standing up and offering his hand to Marianne. She took it, allowing Ignatz to hoist her up before she smoothed down her skirt.

“I’m going to go clean up Claude’s mess. Again. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

“If something goes wrong, I think I should be there to heal just in case.”

“Just in case? Someone’s going to be needing healing tonight. Trust me.”

[…]

Ignatz didn’t expect to see Raphael at the academy. He felt his stomach drop when he saw the large man walk in through the doorway of the Golden Deer classroom with a shirt that looked like it was about to pop off. In panic, he ducked his head under his arms, hoping that the nearby column would block him from view.

It didn’t.

Raphael had slipped into the seat next to Ignatz, making conversation with the poor boy as if their childhood friendship could resume as if nothing happened.

But something happened. Something very _big _happened, and Ignatz would be the most obtuse person in the world if he was able to carry on without acknowledging it.

Somehow, he managed to have a normal conversation with Raphael that first day, but he swore to himself to do his best effort to avoid Raphael from then onward. And it worked until it didn’t.

When Raphael eventually called him out on it, Ignatz choked. Panicked. And he said the last thing he ever wanted to talk to Raphael about. It was all out in the open, and he couldn’t take it back.

He expected Raphael to get upset and angry, but he didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of it like that. How could Ignatz be at fault for not getting over Raphael’s parents’ death? Convinced that Raphael was putting on a brave face, he headed to the church after dinner that evening to pray to the goddess for guidance.

Ignatz passed by Mercedes and Ashe who were on their way out, and the pair smiled and waved at him before resuming their conversation. At this time of night, the church was mostly empty: the staff usually present during the day had already retired for the evening, and the only students found there were either those of the extremely pious type or those resigned to the fact that there was no possible way in Fódlan that they could pass their upcoming certification exams.

When he arrived that evening with a candle in hand, he was pleasantly surprised to find it empty. He stood in front of the altar, bowed his head, and clapped his hands before silently beginning his prayer. He almost finished when he heard another pair of footsteps echo in the church.

Quickly wrapping up his prayer, he grabbed the candle he had set aside to see who had joined him. The dark circles under their eyes, only accentuated by the shadows cast by the candle they held, nearly caused him to scream, but he then noticed their braided, light-blue hair and realized that it was just Marianne.

“Good evening,” he greeted.

“Good evening,” she echoed in that soft voice of hers.

He hadn’t had much luck talking to Marianne, but maybe this was his chance. He aimed to try to get along with everyone in his house by the end of the school year and, while they were cordial towards each other, it didn’t seem like Marianne quite liked him. Ignatz wanted to remedy that, and maybe being vulnerable with her would help with that.

Truthfully, he just wanted to talk to someone. This situation just happened to hit two birds with one stone.

“Here to pray to the goddess?” he asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“…yes.”

Instead of leaving, Ignatz sat on a pew waiting for Marianne to finish praying. In hindsight, he realized it was a little creepy to wait for someone he wasn’t friends with, but he just wanted to be friends with all his classmates.

When she finished praying, she was startled to find him waiting for her. She hid behind her candle, shooting him a look of confusion and terror.

“…may I help you?”

“I wanted to talk.”

Her eyes widened in panic, and she held the candle in her hand as if she was trying to ward him off. Was she okay, or was there a ghost behind him? “About?”

“Something that’s bothering me.”

She glanced at the entrance before she began stumbling upon her words. “Um, if I did something to bother you, I’m so sorry. I can—”

“Oh no, it’s not you!” Marianne had calmed down, but she was still scrunched behind her candle. “There was just something on my mind, that’s all.”

“I don’t think I can help you with that.”

“All you need to do is listen.”

“…I think the goddess does better job of listening than me.”

“But I can’t see the goddess, can I?” She blinked. “Honestly, I just want to talk to someone. Please.”

“I suppose…”

She sat next to him, leaving a good foot or two between them. Her candle sat at her feet, and her gaze focused on his shoes.

“What am I supposed to do when I think it’s my fault?”

He looked over at her, and her already rigid body had somehow become more frozen with that one statement. Ignatz truly didn’t mean to hit something.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to listen if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“…it’s okay. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Her whitened knuckles said otherwise, but if she wanted him to continue, he thought it best to comply.

“I was really good friends with someone growing up, but then his parents died.” The words hung heavy in the air, and Ignatz could feel his throat tighten and tears begin to bead at the corner of his eyes. “They were covering for a job my parents were supposed to do, and he lost his parents as a result. My family didn’t really do anything to help whatever was left of his family, and I can’t help but feel responsible for it somehow. After that, I couldn’t bear to see him again, so I kept my distance from him until I met him here at the academy. All that guilt’s come back to me, and it’s so hard to face him. He was carrying on with our friendship as if his parents didn’t die because of mine and—there’s no way he could’ve forgiven me. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”

Marianne was silent, and Ignatz glanced over at her to see if she was okay. She kept opening and closing her mouth, just like a fish out of water.

“…sometimes,” she started, almost forcing herself to spit these words out, “it’s easier to blame ourselves for what happens around us.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Not everything is our fault, but we can’t help but feel like it is. To not inconvenience anyone else, we’ll shift the accountability on ourselves.”

Ignatz let out a nervous laugh. “You’re scarily on the nose about this.”

The calm and serious expression on her face suddenly turned to alarm. “I’m so sorry!” She shot up. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” She ducked her head. “Please, excuse me.”

Her sudden energy surprised him, but she ran off before he could stop her. His eyes focused on her figure until she disappeared into the hallway leading towards the dorms.

“…she must’ve felt guilty about something for her to answer like that. Sure, what she said didn’t make me feel any better about my situation, but I don’t think she did anything wrong in her case.”

And, maybe, it was presumptuous for him to think that he could do something regarding her own issues, but he wanted to try even if it meant he would never breach the heart of the matter. Sure, maybe all he could really do was grant her temporary comfort, but he had to give it a shot.

Because that poor girl never deserved to feel the same way he did. 


End file.
